


To the Heart (Merlin Angstober 2020)

by sinivalkoista



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Police, Amnesia, Angst, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), But only for one of them, Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Childhood Memories, Descent into Madness, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil Merlin (Merlin), Execution, F/M, Fear of Death, Fear of fire, Fic Graveyard, Forests, Future Fic, Gen, Ghosts, Haunting, Horror, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lancelot's Death, Magic Revealed, Memory Loss, Mental Anguish, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Merlin the Escape Artist, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Modern Era, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2020, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Merlin (Merlin), Poisoning, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Psychological Torture, Regret, Sad, Sad Ending, Sad and Happy, Skeletons, The Author Regrets Nothing, Torture, insane merlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 17,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinivalkoista/pseuds/sinivalkoista
Summary: "I did it for you, Arthur."A collection of Merlin angst drabbles (usually fewer than 1,000 words) written for NaNoWriMo.Read at own risk.
Relationships: Freya/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 98
Collections: Angstober 2020





	1. blood on my hands (and roses in my body)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #1: "I did it for you."
> 
> If it is not too much trouble, I would really appreciate a short comment of what you thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #1: "I did it for you."
> 
> If it is not too much trouble, I would really appreciate a short comment of what you thought. :)

**blood on my hands (and roses in my body)**

“I did it for you, Arthur.”

Arthur stared at the person who had been his best friend, his confidence, the person he could trust the most for  _ years.  _ Rain pounded into his face, flattened his hair to his forehead, and trickled down his neck into his shirt, but he didn’t care. He could only stare at the person kneeling before him, blood coating his hands.

“I did it for you, Arthur,” Merlin repeated, looking up from where he knelt on the ground.

Arthur couldn’t think. 

Instead of blue eyes, all he could see were golden orbs staring back at him.

Golden. Red. Gold and red. Camelot’s colors.

He laughed. 

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, his voice strained.

His best friend was a sorcerer. 

All these years, and he never saw a thing. Or if he had, he had pushed the suspicion to the back of his mind because there was  _ no  _ possible way that stupid, idiodic, trustworthy _ Merlin  _ was a sorcerer.

Still standing in the rain, Arthur laughed and laughed and laughed until his throat was raw and he wasn’t sure if his cheeks were wet from the rain or tears.

After everything - after everything, after all of the quests and the promises and the declarations of loyalty - he was not sure if he could take this.

Not Merlin.

Anyone but Merlin.

Gwaine, Elyan, Lancelot, Percival, Leon -  _ anyone  _ but Merlin.

Why did it have to be Merlin?

“I did it for you,” Merlin repeated softly, his gaze dropping to the ground.

The ground where water and blood were mingling together in a potent drink of death. So many corpses.

“I know,” Arthur whispered. “I know. I know, I know, I know-” 

“I did it for you,” Merlin echoed himself. “Only for you. I-” He looked around.

He could not deny the carnage. He could not deny the bodies covered with Camelot’s red. He could not deny the blood beneath his fingernails, the crazed look in his eye.

“I’m sorry.” Tears leaked out of Merlin’s eyes. “I tried to stop. I tried. I can’t stop it, Arthur. You have to stop me. It - I’ve held it back for so long. I don’t think I can do it any longer. Please. I would rather it be you. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Arthur said again. 

Never had he felt more anguish. Not even for the death of his mother or his father or Morgana’s betrayal.

“Please,” Merlin begged, clenching his fists in front of himself.

“I know,” Arthur repeated, kneeling next to his friend. 

The words continuously echoed through the air even as he took the knife from his belt and rammed it into Merlin’s heart.

A hint of a smile touched Merlin’s face. 

“Thank you,” he whispered as Arthur lowered him to the ground. “Thank you.”

The crazed look was beginning to fade. Arthur could see the blue again. 

Merlin was Merlin.

Briefly, Merlin smiled.

As the rain began to halt and the clouds withdrew, Arthur stayed with the body of his friend.

When he looked up, the battlefield had been transformed. Flowers were growing out of everything - the bodies, the ground, the discarded swords and shields. 

_ “I did it for you.”  _


	2. everything i've ever missed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #2: Stolen

**everything I’ve ever missed**

Merlin had always felt as though something had been stolen from him.

Most of the time, he walked around with this notion tucked into the corner of his mind, and he could never seem to rid himself of it no matter how hard he tried.

Despite the efforts of his mother, his childhood had been far from pleasant. Although his mother worked day and night, food was always lacking. There was a sensation of beastly hunger roaring around his stomach.

The other villagers hated him. They were suspicious. They called him names. No one wanted to be around him, and his mother couldn’t make most of the suffering go away.

He thought things would improve after she sent him to Camelot. In Camelot, no one knew who he was. No one knew of the strange things that happened around him that were  _ definitely  _ NOT magic. It would be somewhat of a fresh start. 

But he soon learned - he was not free in Camelot. Everywhere he turned, he was reminded how much he did not belong because of his magic. He saw executions, burnings, flames licking up the sides of pyres onto which innocent people -  _ humans  _ were bound.

They could have been him.

His sleep was stolen from him. Each night, his dreams were filled with crackling flames and cold eyes that had once belonged to friends condemning him. 

He wanted to tell Arthur, he really did, but...he never could. Forever, he had to keep it a secret for the good of Camelot.

So he kept his mouth shut through  _ everything,  _ always working behind the scenes never being able to step into the light and let it melt away the burden that rested upon his shoulders. 

And in the end, when Arthur knew, when Arthur  _ thanked  _ him…

His king and his friend was stolen from him.


	3. cut to the heart, leave a scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #3: Memory loss.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. :)

**cut to the heart, leave a scar**

Merlin walked through the bustling, busy streets alone. 

At this point, many people thought he was a harmless wanderer. But they never stopped to ask him, and he never felt the urge to correct the notion.

In a way, he  _ was  _ a homeless wanderer.

He kept searching faces, looking, analyzing, hoping that  _ just one  _ would be familiar.

None of them ever were. 

They were starting to blend together. To Merlin, all of them were beginning to look the same. He had seen so many over the years, and eventually, they all died. Every last one of them. He stopped making friends. Every time he saw someone, his stomach squeezed until he was sure he was going to vomit on the sidewalk.

The cold bit into the cracks in his coat collar and sliced its way up the cuffs to his arms, but he kept walking. With the way his shoulders were hunched and his back was stooped over, he could have been an aged wizard, and if he looked up, his eyes were faded. Dull.

Memories hurt. They dug into his skull and heart, reminded him of things that could never be the same because too many years had passed. Sometimes, he believed that the headache would never stop. 

He continued searching.

Amid a mass of red, black, and grey coats, he caught a glimpse of slightly curly dark hair.

A couple hundred years ago, he would have run over to investigate, but now, he waited until the person was nearer.

If the two of them continued, they would bump straight into each other. 

It was Gwen.

The air was suspended in his lungs.

As she approached him, she slowed and tilted her head to the side as though she was trying to figure out where she had seen him before. Merlin did the same but with wariness.

“Pardon me if this sounds strange,” she began, a hint of red touching her cheeks, “but have we met before? I feel like I know you.”

She did.

Merlin wanted to scream, shout, yell,  _ yes,  _ but all he could do was stare into Gwen’s eyes. Nothing had changed. His first true friend in Camelot was standing right in front of him. It would be so easy to reach out and shake her hand...their skin only had to touch.

But Merlin remembered. A thousand five hundred years. Alone. Being hunted, being drowned in guilty. Remembering. Wondering.

Did he want Gwen to remember?

Did he want to go through it again as she aged and withered and turned grey and eventually  _ died,  _ leaving him and condemning him to another millennium  _ alone?  _

His head throbbed.

“No,” he said slowly, jamming his hands into his coat pockets. “I don’t think we have.”

She continued to scrutinize his face.

Merlin was finding it more difficult to control the emotions on his face. It  _ hurt.  _

But it was best. It was safest. It would keep him sane.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Gwen!” someone called above the din of the city. “Hurry, or we’re going to be late!”

Trying to block all of it out, Merlin closed his eyes. He would recognize that voice anywhere. Even in his sleep. For years, it had yelled at him, confided in him, had-

A light hand touched his arm, resting on the fabric of his coat. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

He flinched away. Although he could barely speak through the knot in his vocal cords, he cleared his throat. “Yes. Fine. Sorry,” he choked out.

“Gwen!”

The blonde hair was closer. If Merlin stayed, he would come face to face with Arthur.

He would be trapped.

Above all, Arthur would hurt him the most.

Before he could be tempted (he would give in - immediately), Merlin turned and fled, blending and mixing himself into the hubbub as the city, tears streaming down his face and blinding him.

“Who was that?” Arthur asked his wife, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Gwen shook her head. “I have no idea. But he looked familiar.”

Arthur squinted after him.

Merlin continued to walk the streets alone. 


	4. are you here yet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #4: Graveyard
> 
> I hope you had a happy Thanksgiving. :)  
> Please let me know what you think!

**are you here yet?**

The mist twisted in and out of the graveyard like a lazy river. A divergent breeze pushed against its gate, making it thud against a broken latch.

_ Creeeeeeak.  _

_ Thud. Thud.  _

Footsteps crunched against the half-dead grass. 

But there was nothing for them to disturb. A gaunt figure walked among the slabs of stone that marked the final resting place of so many, trailing thin white fingers over their tops. Although he moved slowly, his movements were agitated.

“Not here yet.”

The words drifted around the graveyard before being stolen by the wind.

As he listened to his own voice, the figure tilted his head to the side, stopping for a moment. Then, he stooped by one of the graves, tracing the name on it.

“Not here yet,” he repeated to himself. “We’re not here yet.”

As long as the tombstones remained void of the names...it would be fine, he told himself. It would be all right. They weren’t there yet.

They weren’t there yet.

They were  _ not  _ there yet.

Over and over in his mind, he repeated this mantra.

_ They weren’t there yet.  _

Sometimes, he was afraid that they would be. That he would visit, and their names would be carved into the stone forever. That he would sleep the time away and wake up to find that he had missed the ones he had waited for so long. 

He coudln't let that happen.

So he checked every evening when the lights went out and the people crawled into their beds.

_ They weren’t there yet. They weren’t there yet. They weren’t there yet.  _

Dusting off his pants, he stood and then shook out his hands. They were numb from either the cold or the disuse. He stole to the gate of the graveyard and let himself out.

_ Creeeeeeaaaak.  _

The gate clanked shut behind him. As the figure disappeared into the woods on the other side of the property, the wind continued gently beating against it and weathering down the tombstones. 

_ They weren’t there yet. They weren’t there yet. They weren’t there yet.  _


	5. let me give you life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #5: Terminal illness
> 
> Your thoughts are not required but appreciated. >:D

**let me give you life**

Arthur entered his room to find his manservant clutching the bedpost, white as a sheet, and blood dripping from one corner of his mouth.

“Fie!” he swore, crossing the room. It looked as though he was going to faint. “Are you all right, Merlin?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Merlin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s nothing.”

Arthur had heard plenty of ridiculous things out of Merlin’s mouth in the few years that he had known him, but this one really took the ham. “You don’t look all right to me,” he pointed out angrily. “What’s wrong?”

Merlin shot him an annoyed look. “Nothing’s wrong. Do you have to be such a mother hen, Arthur?” He pushed past Arthur to scoop up the rest of the dirty bed sheets in a messy heap on the ground.

Incredulously, Arthur stared at him. 

Merlin was going to walk out as though nothing had happened. Why was he being such an  _ idiot?  _

When Merlin turned to make for the door, Arthur was there to block him.

Sighing, Merlin raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Really, Arthur, you can’t blame me for not getting my chores down when you seem to insist on keeping me from doing them.”

Arthur crossed his arms. “I’m not letting you go until you tell me what’s wrong,” he stated, trying to make his voice calm. If Merlin sensed any anger or worry, he would immediately shut down  _ or  _ (worse), make fun of Arthur for “caring.”

It wasn’t caring. It was ensuring that some poor sop didn’t have to go through all of the trouble of finding a new manservant to replace Merlin.

“If you really have to know, I banged my head on your best post a little too hard. Are you happy?”

Instantly, Arthur relaxed. “Oh.” So it wasn’t such a big deal, after all. “Leave it to you to be such a  _ girl  _ over a minor injury,  _ Mer _ lin.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, we can’t all be big buffoons like you. Can I go now?”

Arthur stepped to the side. “Sure. While you’re at it, you can also take my shirt to the seamstress to be patched.”

Merlin gave him a confused look. “Patched? Your clothes are patched?”

Slowly, Arthur nodded and, in case Merlin didn’t understand that, said, “Yes.”

Merlin swallowed. “So what would you say if I said that I might have accidentally thrown it out?”

Arthur’s left eye twitched.  _ “My favorite shirt?”  _

Merlin ducked out the door.

…

“You all right, mate?” Gwaine asked. “We’ve only been out here a couple of hours, and you’ve been coughing more than my great-aunt Gladys.”

“You have a great-aunt named Gladys?” Leon asked curiously.

“I didn’t know that,” Merlin said, completely avoiding the question.

From where he was sitting on his horse in front of them, Arthur snorted.

“Are you ill?” Percival asked him bluntly.

“Just a cold,” Merlin said. “And before you ask me, I already cleared this trip with Gaius.’

Arthur snorted again. “Funny how you feel free to clear it with the court physician but don’t bother to clear it with me.”

“Sorry,” Merlin grumbled before coughing into his elbow.

The sound was wet and rattled around in his chest. The knights in front of Arthur exchanged wary glances.

Arthur was a tad worried himself, but everything seemed to be fine as Merlin started the fire and cooked their stew, asking questions about the beast they were trying to find and destroy.

Although Arthur and the knights did nothing to  _ help  _ Merlin, exactly, they all watched their friend with concern.

Merlin pretended not to notice.

“And all of the villages saw it on the same evening?” he asked as he stirred the stew.

For all of the times that Arthru had teased him, Merlin was a fairly decent chef even if it wasn’t even close to the culinary prowess of Cook.

“Yes,” Lancelot said. “On the full moon.”

Merlin stopped for a moment to turn away from their meal and hack into his elbow again. The fit lasted about a minute, the longest that Arthru had heard so far on that trip, and whenever he straightened out, he was breathing heavily.

“Merlin-” Lancelot began.

“It’s fine,” Merlin snapped. “Gaius gave me several tonics to drink. I haven’t had the time yet. It’s fine.”

Arthur stood. “Go take them. I’ll finish the stew.”

Merlin looked at him incredulously. 

Annoyed, Arthur waved his hand. “I don’t want to sit around listening to you hack your lungs out onto the forest floor. Just...go do it.”

“I’ll find more firewood,” Gwaine volunteered, hoping up. 

Although Merlin was reluctant to hand over the ladle, Arthur pried it from his hand and squatted in front of the pot over the fire.

As Arthur watched him with eagle eyes, Merlin went over to his pack and rifled through it. He removed several bottles and downed both in one go. He caught Arthur’s stare. “Are you happy now?”

Arthur turned away. “Whatever,  _ Mer _ lin.”

“It’ll get better,” Merlin assured him. “Your manservant will be up and running in no time, ready to save your sorry behind. You’ll see.”

…

Merlin did not get better.

The opposite. Like trees losing their leaves, he began to slowly wane away. His skinny form turned stick-like, and whenever Arthur tried to force him to eat, he merely picked at the food, offering excuses.

“Gaius already made me a big breakfast.”

“Gwen forced some kind of  _ awful  _ pastry down my throat this morning - do you think she can cook?”

They were blatant lies, and both Arthur and Merlin knew that. But neither of them said anything because it felt as though they were dancing around on broken glass.

Although Arthur should have been worried about plenty of things (what Morgana was up to, running the kingdom, finding the mysterious sorcerer who kept following him around and saving his life), he could not get his mind off Merlin.

In a paltry attempt to assuage his fears, he visited Gaius.

“Is there something you needed, sire?” Gaius asked him as he rested his forearm against the doorframe and watched the physician crunch a bunch of leaves with his mortar and pestle. “Merlin is out collecting herbs for me.”

Arthur hoped the fresh air would fix... _ something.  _ “Is that for Merlin?” he asked instead, entering the room further.

Gaius hesitated for a second before continuing with his task. 

He didn’t answer.

Arthur didn’t need him to.

“How sick is he?” he asked quietly.

“He can still perform his duties,” Gaius answered, setting down the mortar and pestle. He rested a hand on Arthur’s arm. “Do not worry, sire.”

Arthur worried.

…

Arthur knew he was dying, and he found this immensely funny.

Why? Because he’d thought that out of the two of them, Merlin would die before he did. 

Merlin was  _ already  _ dying. Merlin could barely breathe most days. His skin was always tinged, and every single breath he drew in was ragged.

“Stay with me,” Merlin begged as the horse thundered underneath them. “We just have to get to the lake.”

Arthur let his eyes slide further shut, relishinging in the sensation of being alive. Of being warm.

“Come on,” Merlin begged. “We’re almost to the lake.”

His words sounded as though they were pushing through water to get to Arthur. They were blurred, which was amusing because words were heard, not seen.

Abruptly the horse stopped, and Arthur found himself sliding from its back.

But even that was hard to detect. The world was fading from around him.

“Blast it!” Merlin cursed, panting, as he lowered Arthur to the ground. His arms were shaking. Weak, underneath the load of Arthur. “Come on!”

Arthur didn’t understand. He didn’t know what Merlin wanted and could barely bring the strength about to say what he wanted to.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“No.” Merlin’s voice shook. “No, you’re not going to do that to me. Arthur, I have magic.”

If Arthur had been more coherent, more awake, more  _ filled with blood,  _ he might have had a greater reaction to that statement, but all he could manage was a slight smile.

“Blast it,” Merlin swore again.

Even he could barely speak.

Overhead, Merlin began to chant.

Arthur woke, gasping. Fresh air filled his lungs, and he found there was enough strength in him to prop himself up.

Beside him, Merlin lay on the grass, staring up at the sky.

Horror filled Arthur’s veins. “No!” He scrambled to his feet and dropped next to Merlin. “Merlin!”

“Was going to die, anyway,” Merlin rasped. “Gaius said I only had two weeks, most.”

Arthur didn’t hear it. He scooped Merlin up.

He was lighter than Gwen.

“And if not the illness,” Merlin continued, “then the pyre.”

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to hear any of it. He didn’t want to acknowledge any of it. He didn’t want to  _ admit- _

“I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“Don’t - Merlin?  _ Merlin!”  _


	6. Flames, Flames, Burning in My Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #6: Nightmares come alive
> 
> This one does make as much sense. :I

**Flames, Flames, Burning in My Sleep**

Merlin could face down sadistic, rogue sorcerers; the sharp, angry swords of bandits; and the well-placed, hard throw of Arthur’s boots, but he was afraid of his own dreams.

They were lurking, waiting for him, crouching at the corner.

He was afraid to go to bed at night.

If he stayed awake just a  _ little  _ bit longer - if he ignored the tickling, the nagging at the corners of his mind to lie down in bed and close his eyes - maybe then, he would be rid of it. Maybe he would be fine. 

If he worked harder, if he plowed through the day, if he did  _ something  _ else, he wouldn’t feel the need to sleep.

That was not how it happened.

Even though he’d gotten good at sneaking out in the middle of the night (magic really helped with that), Gaius was not completely oblivious. He was forced to spend some time in his room whether he liked it or not.

So he paced. And when his limbs grew too heavy and he was stumbling over his own feet, he sat on the edge of the cot.

But not  _ too  _ far onto it. Because that would be too tempting. 

Against his will, he was leaning over. Then, his cheek was touching the edge of the pillow.

Next, his shoulder was sagging, and his eyes were closing.

He tried to stop himself. Before, he’d succeeded so many times, but tonight?

Tonight, he gave in.

…

Flames poured out of everywhere, licking at his skin, burning, searing, tearing into his flesh in sinew until it reached his bones.

“ _ Sssssssssorcerer.”  _

The word hissed in a loop around his brain even as the fire crackled, covering it up. It seared its way through his brain, making him toss and turn and get wrapped up in the sheets. His magic moved around him, twisting and turning as though it were the flames itself.

“ _ Liar.” _

_ “Sorcerer.” _

_ “Liar.” _

_ “Burn, burn, burn, burn.” _

_ Burn. _

_ Burn. _

_ Burn. _

He woke. The world was hot around him as though his nightmare had come alive. His skin was on fire. He was burning. He was turning into ash. His skin was disintegrating in front of him until there was nothing left but bone.

He stared at his skin in horror, but the shout that was welling up in his mind was caught in his throat.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe through the smoke.

He was burning from the inside out.


	7. Drip, Drip, Patter Patter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #7: Skeleton

**Drip, Drip, Drip, Patter Patter**

“It’s spooky down here,” Merlin whispered, then cocked his head to listen to the echo of his words as they ricocheted off the walls. 

Looking back over his shoulder, Arthur sent Merlin an annoyed look. “ _ Really,  _ I hadn’t  _ noticed, Mer _ lin.”

It was rather obvious. The stone walls that made up the catacombs underneath the castle were wet with a dark substance and dank. An unidentifiable smell wafted through the air and tickled Merlin’s nostrils. At one point, he felt like throwing up, but then it morphed into just unbearable.

“I don’t know how you knew these were down here,” Arthur muttered, raising the torch for a moment to look at scratches on the wall next to the ceiling.

Merlin shrugged. It was rather difficult to explain that he stumbled across the wrought-iron entrance illegally visiting Kilgharrah. He’d never been tempted before to see what was behind it, but it had been relatively easy to convince Arthur that he was talented at lockpicking when in actuality, it had been his magic that had gotten them behind the bars.

Now he only hoped that they could deal with the monster hiding behind them and  _ get out  _ as quickly as possible. There was something not right in the catacomb. There was a reason it was locked behind already locked doors.

It was hidden for a reason.

Arthur held up a hand, halting Merlin in his tracks. “Do you hear that?” he hissed.

“Hear what?” Merlin  _ should  _ have been able to detect anything before Arthur. To himself, he frowned.

For a minute, Arthur listened before shaking his head. “It must have been my imagination. It’s so blasted quiet down here.”

It was. Although the strange dark liquid dripped periodically down from the ceiling, the drops made no sound. If not for the sound of their voices, Merlin would have thought he’d gone deaf.

Creeping along, they continued. The passage wound down, down,  _ down,  _ before heading back up. There were no offshoots to choose from, not confusing labyrinths.

Merlin was not sure if that made him feel comforted or more nervous about what lay ahead, but his magic was waiting. If it came to worst, he would use it to get it out of them.

“I think there is an opening up ahead,” Arthur whispered.

Since Arthur’s bulkier form took up most of the passage ahead, Merlin couldn’t see very well, but he took his word for it. 

Carefully, Arthur drew his sword. Even that motion was more muted. “Stay back,” he said. “I don’t think anyone’s there, but you’re not armed.”

Merlin was more armed than Arthur could ever imagine.

Arthur crept forward and turned around a corner, disappearing. Merlin moved forward.

A few seconds later, he reappeared. “It’s fine.” He ducked back behind the corner. 

“Arthur?” Merlin called. He couldn’t hear anything.  _ “Arthur.”  _

No sound.

_ Blast it.  _ Merlin needed to hear something, movement, armor clanking together, dripping. Raising a hand in case he needed to use his magic, he turned the corner.

The narrow passageway opened into a broad room. In the center of the room sat a throne.

Merlin’s gaze, however, was captured by the floor around it. 

Scattered about like groups of dice were skeletons. Some aged, worn yellow and cracked. Some new, freshly white.

Their eye sockets were filled with the mysterious dark liquid that dripped down from the ceilings in thicker globs, like honey.

Merlin’s eyes were then drawn to the throne in the center of the room.

Perched on its seat was a new skeleton, bleached white like the ivory inlaid on Uther’s throne in the hall upstairs.

It was unrecognizable.

Or would have been if not for the armor draped around its skinny frame and the sword resting across its lap.

Merlin could hear something now, the steady  _ drip, drip, patter patter, drip  _ of the black liquid as it hit the ground.

He looked up.

It fell into his eyes.


	8. Block the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #8: Block the Light

**Block the Light**

Mist trickled in through the north. From his lookout point at the top of the tower, Merlin saw it coming. Although he could have easily directed it away with a few words in the ancient tongue, he did nothing as he leaned against the stone parapart.

Mist only came at the worst times. It was an omen, bearing news of evil magic and the twisted lies of the sorcerers that cast it.

Mist was cold. It seeped into the bones and disheartened, drawing out the deepest worries, the greatest sadness, and the darkest hour.

It blocked the light, it buried the sun, and it destroyed the hope.

But Merlin needed the mist. He needed to devour them all, to obscure their vision.

If it came, it would hide the carnage. It would hide the torn, scarred land. It would hide the bodies of his friends, the blood leaking from their wounds and veins and their sightless eyes and they stared up at the clouding sky.

It would veil the truth from his eyes.

He needed the mist. Before the images were seared into his brain and he recognized them for what they were.

He needed it. 


	9. Now You See Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #9: Ghosts

**Now You See Me**

Arthur did not believe in ghosts.

Although magic was a very real and trying concept, ghosts did not exist. If they did, a lot of spectres would be popping up left and right because people died every day. Arthur did not like being callous, but it was a fact of life.

The forest he, Merlin, and the rest of the knights were in, however…

Arthur couldn’t explain it.

A strange, hair-raising atmosphere pressed down on their shoulders, engulfing them in a fog. The only thing that kept Arthur from pressing forward was the thought of the people waiting back in Camelot for the ghosts to disappear.

“Do you feel that?” he whispered to Merlin.

The forest was making normal sounds - leaves rustled, and every once in a while, a twig cracked - but Arthur trusted nothing. If ever there was a time for Merlin to have a “funny feeling” that might tell them something, it was now.

“Yeah.” Merlin was peering around at the trees. “Something feels funny.”

Although Arthur’s arm was growing tired, he refused to lower his sword. “Let’s look for that blasted lonestone and get out of here as quickly as possible.” The sooner they reunited with the other knights, the better. They’d split up in hopes of covering more of the forest in less time, but now Arthur wished Elyan, Leon, Percival, and Gwaine were with them.

After all, there wasn’t much  _ Mer _ lin could do to help him if a ghost decided to appear.

“ _ Arthur?”  _

At the sound of his name, Arthur stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” Merlin hissed. 

“Didn’t you hear that?”

_ “Arthur!” _

“There it is again!” Arthur stopped walking and turned in a slow circle, hoping to catch the sound again. He was not disappointed.

_ “Arthur?”  _

Although it felt as though it should have been familiar, Arthur did not recognize the voice. 

“Who is that?” he asked Merlin.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Merlin said nervously, giving him a strange look. “Has Gwaine been sharing his waterskin with you again? Really, Arthur, I thought you knew-”

Arthur shushed him. As a cold sensation washed over him, a white figure appeared three feet in front of him.

Although  _ supposedly  _ deaf to the matter, Merlin gasped, eyes widening. 

“ _ Arthur,”  _ a woman’s voice cooed. “ _ I found you.”  _

Arthur might not have been familiar with the voice, but he recognized the woman because of the portraits that hung in the hall.

It was his mother.

Ygraine reached out a hand towards Arthur’s cheek.  _ “My darling. I’ve waited so long.”  _

The sword slipped from his fingers.

“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice raised in pitch. 

“Mother?” He took a step forward, but the figure morphed into someone else.

Uther. 

Uther frowned at his son.  _ “Look at what you have done to Camelot.”  _

Arthur didn’t know what to do. It was as though the presence of the ghosts had driven his mind and his ability to move from his body. He was paralyzed.

_ “Merlin! Merlin!”  _

Laughter peeled about the forest.

_ “Merlin, look what I found. Strawberries!”  _

Next to Arthur, Merlin started. “Freya?” he called, his voice filled with both longing and fear.

The ghost of Uther/Ygraine began walking away, stomping and gliding through the forest’s thicket. Arthur felt torn in two. His entire life, he had dreamed of what his mother had been like, but now he wasn’t sure if the figure blending into the woods was her or his father.

A young girl appeared in front of them. She gave Merlin a big smile.  _ “Merlin!” _

“Why-” Merlin choked over the words. “The lake?”

_ “Come,”  _ the girl beckoned, holding out a hand.  _ “You won’t have to be afraid anymore. You can come with me. We’ll build a farm and raise animals.”  _

Who was she?

Arthur was faced with too many choices. He could stay and discover the girl’s identity, he could follow after his mother, he could follow after his  _ father  _ and open up the slew of emotions that came along with him, he could-

Merlin was taking a step forward, reaching out a hand to take Freya’s.

Arthur knew of magic. Ghosts were magic. Ygraine and Uther weren’t real. They were only shadows of what they would have been if they were alive. 

Lunging forward, he wrapped a strong arm around Merlin’s middle, holding him back.

Merlin fought. He kicked Arthur, tried to headbutt him. Momentarily, Arthur lost his vision as the back of Merlin’s head collided with his skull. 

“Let me go!” Merlin screamed. “Let me go!”

“I can’t,” Arthur answered, huffing. 

If he let Merlin go, he saw Merlin intertwining his fingers with Freya’s, fading away, and entering the world of the dead.

_ “Merlin,”  _ Freya called,  _ “please. Before they stop us.”  _

“Please, Arthur.” 

He refused to release his manservant.

Off somewhere in another part of the forest, something wailed. Another group of knights must have reached the lodestone, Arthur realized, before a shock wave blasted through the forest, knocking him and Merlin to the ground.

When the ringing in his ears ceased and his head cleared, Arthur scrambled to his feet. In the middle of the path, Merlin was lying prone.

Arthur tripped over tiny shrubs, trees, and his own feet to get to Merlin. His heart thudded through his ears. Was Merlin dead?

Whenever he rolled Merlin over, however, he found that Merlin was alive.

There were tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Why?” Merlin croaked as the heavy blanket began to rise from the forest. “Why?”

“It was better than dying,” Arthur attempted to joke. 

“No, Arthur,” Merlin whispered, closing his eyes. “It was worse.”


	10. drown in anger, taste the rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #10: Poisoning

**drown in anger, taste the rage**

Merlin was drowning.

Not in water, but in a pool of his own anger.

Anger at being trapped, of being forced into a role he didn’t want, serving a king he didn’t believe in and didn’t respect.

No one understood. No one saw. No one believed.

Merlin could not confide in anyone. His mother was hundreds of leagues away, and everyone else? Well...they couldn’t be trusted. They could hurt him. They would burn him for something he couldn’t rid himself of. If they didn’t know, they couldn’t punish him, but that didn’t stop them from pinching, pressing, and pushing him into a box.

His magic  _ ached  _ to be released, and it fueled the anger raging inside his heart.

Arthur was the cause of it. He was Uther’s son. He would never change. He would never see magic as something good. He was too stuck in the Purge’s ways and ideals.

He would hurt Merlin.

Merlin didn’t want to burn. He wanted to be free. He wanted to use his magic without fear of the flames.

Merlin would have to get rid of Arthur. 

It was the only way. The only way to make sure it didn’t continue. The only way to save himself and the rest of them before it was too late.

Or so he told himself. 

…

He kept himself neutral. He kept himself silent. He kept himself far, far away from the prince who would be king.

He waited. He watched. Occasionally, he saved the prince’s life, but there was always that little nag in the back of his head that reminded him that he needed to do something, to act, to save himself.

He found the right time.

It was an ordinary day. No trouble to the east, the west, the north, or the south.

Merlin served.

He always served. Arthur never cared, never tried to understand.

Merlin poured the wine.

Merlin always poured the wine. Arthur trusted him enough for that, after all this time.

Merlin stepped back.

Merlin always stepped back. Into the shadows, where no one saw him. He could disappear if he wanted to. He could.

Merlin waited.

Merlin always waited. Waited for someone to understand, waited for someone to realize what they were doing, waited for someone to say something and fix everything, waited for someone to tell him it would be all right.

That he was fine.

That he was needed for who he was and not who everyone  _ thought  _ he was.

Arthur took a long swig of his wine and thrust his goblet out towards Merlin. “More,” he demanded. 

Who was Merlin to deny what the prince wanted?

He poured another glass.

After Arthur set his second cup down, he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Tell the cook-” he began gruffly.

He stopped. Cleared his throat. “Tell the cook-”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Merlin took a step forward. “Yes, sire?”

“Tell-” Arthur choked, clutching his throat with his hand. He abandoned the thought and looked at Merlin with pleading eyes. “ _ Help,”  _ he wheezed.

Merlin stood.

He always stood. Behind everyone. Behind everything. Never being noticed.

Merlin watched. 

He always watched. Behind the scenes, seeing everything and hearing every word.

_ “Help,”  _ Arthur tried again as his hand began to shake and his body began to convulse. “ _ Help.”  _

Merlin said nothing.

He always said nothing. No one ever spoke to Merlin.

No one ever cared.

Arthur slumped forward on top of his desk.

The shakes stilled.

Merlin stepped forward and closed the blue eyes. He didn’t want them staring at him. Then, he turned around and left the room, the wine pitcher tucked under his elbow.

It was empty.


	11. Always by Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #11: Missing in Action

**Always By Your Side**

“Where’s  _ Merlin?”  _

The words rang out over the courtyard of the wasted city. Since it was difficult to see, Arthur swatted a hand in front of his face to clear the air of dust.

“Isn’t he with you?”

Percival’s voice came to Arthur out of the fog before his face.

Arthur scowled. “He  _ was.  _ Blasted idiot ran off in the middle of it.” Although he was glad that Merlin had gotten  _ out  _ of the situation before he injured himself, he was also irritated that Merlin had disappeared to who knows where.

“Leon!” Percival called as the named knight approached them. “Have you seen Merlin?”

“Merlin?” Leon cocked his head to the side. “Wasn’t he with Arthur?”

“For the love of,” Arthur growled, turning to the side to use the cape of a barbarian to wipe the blood off his sword before sheathing it. “Someone find Merlin, for crying out loud.” Leave it to  _ Merlin  _ to get lost in a city.

“Ahoy!” Gwaine called.

Now that the skirmish was over, the dust was settling down, and it was easier to see who was who - and the debris lying everywhere.

Arthur was only glad that most of the dead belonged to the barbarians instead of Camelot.

“Gwaine.” Approaching him, Arthur clapped him on the shoulder. “Have you seen Merlin?”

Gwaine frowned. “Aren’t you glad to see me alive, princess?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s good that no one managed to land a blow on the island you call your stomach. Now. Have you seen Merlin?”

Gwaine jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I was busy fending for my life against two of these big, burly brutes, but I thought I saw him running that way.”

A thought crossed Arthur’s mind about Merlin being such a girl, but there were other things for him to be concerned about.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Arthur asked, irritated. “Don’t just stand around, go find him!”

Why was Gwaine prattling on when Merlin was still missing?

Gwaine shot him a  _ look  _ that Arthur was too busy to interpret before cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling, “ _ Merlin!”  _

Oh. Arthur had not considered that as an option. 

With the other knights, he took up the call. After one minute, they fell silent.

Nothing. 

Arthur strode towards the nearest building. If he had to, he would go through every single blasted one to find Merlin. 

Without an order, the rest of the knights followed his lead. Everyone once in a while, a stray  _ “Merlin!”  _ echoed throughout the city. 

As their search continued, the townspeople emerged from their homes and hiding places to watch. 

Arthur overheard Gwaine asking several, “Have you seen a tall fellow, really skinny, black hair and big ears?” 

For saving their sorry hides, they were sure being uncooperative. 

“Prince Arthur!

At the sound of Elyan’s voice, Arthur whipped around. 

Something was off about it - an emotion in it was thinly disguised.

He saw the slightly larger outline of Leon making its way down the street, carrying something in his arms.

A tall figure, really skinny, with black hair and big ears.

Relief washed over Arthur. Merlin was fine. It was just like his stupid,  _ idiotic,  _ good-for-nothing manservant-

“ _ No!”  _ Gwaine howled.

_ No,  _ Arthur thought. Nothing was wrong. Merlin always made it out of difficult situations - he had more lives than a  _ ruddy cat,  _ there was no way-

Leon’s head was bowed.

“No,” he whispered as horror gripped him. “No, no, no!” 

He turned and slammed his fist into the nearest wall.

Behind him, he heard Gwaine say, “Merlin, mate, come on, open your eyes. It’s just a flesh wound.”

“Gwaine, he’s head,” Percival whispered quietly, his voice cracking at the end.

_ Just a flesh wound.  _

Arthur closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the wall. Merlin was always by his side, getting into trouble - he just didn’t  _ understand- _

He could not look.

He  _ would _ not look.

He would not see Merlin dead.


	12. pull me apart, pick me apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #12: Disaster

**pull me apart, pick me apart**

They joked that Merlin was a disaster.

That he would forget to tie his boots in the morning if Gaius didn’t remind him. That he would forget which way was east if the sun didn’t rise in that direction every morning. That he would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his shoulders.

Merlin felt like a disaster.

Every day, he was pulled in a thousand different directions.

He did everything for Arthur (almost quite literally because Arthur didn’t know how to do a lot of things).

He helped Gwen when her chores were a bit too much.

He polished the knights’ armor whenever the other castle servants were overrun on holidays.

He picked herbs and attended to patients for Gaius whenever the older man’s arthritis acted up because of bad weather or coldness.

He cut the onions for Cook to pay her back for the rolls she let him steal because she thought he was too thin. 

He changed the sheets in the spare rooms for guests whenever Mary’s little brother came down with a fever and she needed to sit with him because both of their parents were dead.

He didn’t mind. Not really. He was glad to help everyone. Growing up, he had felt that he was never for his mother when she sacrificed everything to make sure he was taken care of. She had been a single mother with a child of questionable origin, but she still cared.

In a way, Merlin was trying to repay her by helping others.

So he let himself be pulled apart, picked apart if it meant that he could be useful to someone.

He was a disaster. Sometimes, he wished the throbbing behind his eyes would go away and he could think straight, keep everything swirling around in his mind orderly, not trip over his boot laces because he had forgotten to tie them once again.

Because Merlin was a disaster.


	13. i lie to lift you up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #13: Traitor

**i lie to lift you up**

“ _ Traitor!”  _

If Merlin closed his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to see the darkness of the dungeon cell closing in around him.

If he closed his eyes and focused on the darkness inside, he wouldn’t be able to see the betrayal, the brokenness, the hurt that had flashed across Arthur’s face.

He wouldn’t be able to see anything.

In the corner, a small flow of water dripped onto the ground, creating a puddle.

Water.

Water, fire, water, fire. Always against each other, one putting out or evaporating the other. 

Wrapping his arms around his knees, Merlin sighed. How long would they keep him down there, in the sem-darkness? How long would they hold off sentencing him?

Would Arthur try? Would Arthur make an attempt to save his life?

Or would he just let Merlin go?

If he were Arthur, Merlin would let himself go.

He was a traitor. Every day, he waltzed through life lying. He didn’t know why he had thought he could get away forever when he was a disaster. Sometimes, he could barely keep the time of day straight. It was foolish to think that he wouldn’t slip up, make a mistake somewhere and reveal what he really was.

A traitor.

He drummed his fingers on the side of his knee.

He could escape. He could blast the cell apart with magic (and it wanted him to). He could run and never look back.

(A long time ago, he and Freya had dreamed of building a farm together with yellow fields of grain and plenty of animals to keep them busy. That dream was gone.)

Iron scraped into the silence, interrupting the steady beat of the water.

Merlin looked up.

A sliver of light broke into the darkness, and it was followed by a ball of fire. 

A torch.

Silently, someone stole down the steps. 

Since his eyes had long ago adjusted to the near darkness, Merlin covered his eyes to keep the torch from blinding him.

“Merlin?”

“Gwen,” he breathed. “What are you doing here? You could get in trouble!”

Arthur was her husband. He would not take too kindly to her consorting with the enemy.

Gwen withdrew a key from her pocket. “I’m here to get you out. Hold this for me.”

She passed the torch through the bars of the cell.

“What are you doing here?” Merlin repeated. “Arthur will be furious.”

“Arthur may be my husband, but he doesn’t control me,” Gwen snapped.

Taken aback, Merlin shut up as Gwen unlocked the cell.

Loudly, the cell door creaked as she swung it open.

Merlin stepped out and paused. “I could have gotten that open by myself, you know.”

Gwen had always been brave. She never backed down from everything, always did what was right, always tried to protect her friends (unless otherwise possessed). Now, she looked Merlin straight in the eye. “I know.”

“I’m a traitor.”

“No. You tried to protect Arthur. I know, Merlin.” She rested a hand on his arm. “He might see it now, but Arthur is losing one of his greatest supporters.

Merlin gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Gwen.”

Gwen gave him a small hug, leaning her head into his arm. “I know you should get out of here as soon as possible, but...just...just don’t stay away too long, okay?”

Even though it was dark, Merlin nodded.

For a minute more, Gwen continued hugging him before she let go.

But Merlin could never convince himself of what Gwen believed. 

He lied.

He killed.

He wielded magic. 

No matter what she said, he would always be a traitor. Not to himself, Gaius, or Gwen, but to the one he tried to protect the most. 


	14. This twisted game we play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #14: Insult

**This twisted game we play**

Every single day, Arthur and Merlin insulted each other.

_ “Would you like me to drill another hole in your belt, sire?”  _

_ “Merlin, do you even know which way is up?”  _

It was sort of like a game of tag - except they were standing right next to each other, and the words went back and forth as though they’d been shot from a bow.

_ “You have the brains of a donkey and the face of a toad.” _

_ “At least I have brains, Arthur.” _

But it was also more than a game. 

They poked and prodded at each other like farmers inspecting horses. They watched like owls from the trees. They tested the waters and occasionally got burnt.

“ _ Condescending, supercilious, patronizing.” _

_ “Merlin, do you even  _ know  _ what those words mean?” _

_ “They mean you, Arthur.” _

They insulted and dug and gibbed and needled at each other until they were exhausted, but at the end of the day, they were never quite sure if they were actually friends. Both of them hated it and at the same time couldn’t let it go because that was just the dynamic of their relationship.

It was a twisted game to play.


	15. solitude, creeping through my bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #15: Cold

**solitude, creeping through my bones**

Merlin was cold.

They hadn’t given him a blanket, and although the materials on the strange clothes they had given him were nicer than what he wore, his shirt was thin.

He wasn’t allowed a blanket.

The walls were white.

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but the walls were almost like snow. Burying him. Sinking cold into his bones.

His fingernails were purple, but none of  _ them  _ (he didn’t know who there were, just that they were  _ not  _ from Camelot) seemed to care.

He was given a bed.

He supposed he should have been grateful for that since none of Camelot’s dungeons even allowed that, but he didn’t use it.

There was no blanket.

Merlin would have done anything for a blanket. The skin on his arms and the backs of his hands and his muscles were tight. When he moved, they resisted. 

He didn’t know where he was.

He didn’t know the purpose of the strange beeping lights.

He didn’t even know their language.

When they had first found him, he tried to talk to them, to introduce himself, to ask where he was and if anyone knew where in the blue blazes that idiot King Arthur was.

Their words were strange. Garbled. Harsh.

He’d gotten upset.

Maybe if he’d stayed calm, he wouldn’t be where he is now, but he hadn’t. His magic reacted to the foreignness and lashed out. 

Every once in a while, they came.

Although it could have been on a schedule, Merlin had long ago lost track of time. Occasionally, they dimmed the lights in the white box, but they always came back on again.

They took his blood.

He learned quickly that it went more easily if he didn’t resist.

He was unsure of the powers of their strange magic, but it stamped down on his, oppressing it and pushing it until it receded into Merlin’s body. It was there, underneath the surface, but most days, he could barely feel it.

He wanted to go home, back to Camelot.

He wanted to go away from the poking and the prodding and the lights that blinded his eyes and bore into his skull.

He pulled at his hair, plugged his ears, and closed his eyes, but he was incapable of blocking everything out. They drugged him when they didn’t like what he did. When he disobeyed. 

When they left and the lights were turned off, he curled into the smallest ball he could muster and cried.

Perhaps it was girlish.

Arthur would have made fun of him. Arthur would have encouraged him to get off the ground and do something to fix it.

Arthur wasn’t around.

On the floor, the cold seeped into Merlin, immobilizing and numbing him. 

He lost his will to get up. 

Why did it even matter?

He was alone - Gwen, Percival, Leon, Gwaine, Gaius, Elyan, Lancelot, Freya were gone.

Arthur wasn’t there. 

This was the epitome of solitude.

It was so cold.


	16. fill the lungs, clog the mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #16: Smoke

**fill the lungs, clog the mind**

“Do I  _ have  _ to start the fire?” Merlin complained. “Can’t you just eat jerky or something?”

Leon laughed.

“Tired of your own cooking?” Gwaine asked. “I could always give it a try. I used to cook for myself  _ all  _ the time when I was on the road by myself, all alone-”

“No,” Arthur interrupted, quickly putting a stop to Gwaine’s self-praise and monologue on the qualities of his cooking (that were sure to be false). “Merlin’s cooking.”

Merlin frowned. “I  _ always  _ cook. Can’t one of you do it for once?”

For the love of - “You’re my  _ manservant.  _ It’s your  _ job.”  _ What was Merlin going to do next, insist Arthur dress  _ him  _ every morning?

“Maybe I could-” Percival began. 

Fantastic. Now the  _ knights  _ were going to take pity on Merlin, and that would be the end of Merlin ever doing another chore again. 

“If you want to be helpful,” Arthur interrupted again, “the rest of you can gather firewood or finish setting up the rest of the tents like you were supposed to.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes. “Yes, Your Highness. Anything else you want, princess, before you get your knickers in a wad?”

Elyan snickered.

“Yes. A squirrel. Maybe the extra meat will block out the rest of those forsake herbs Merlin is always dropping in whenever he thinks we’re not looking.”

“Hey!” Merlin protested. “Those are to block out the taste of the horrible meat you keep bringing back for me to throw in.”

“I’m going to leave,” Lancelot said, standing, “before this gets out of hand.”

“Good idea.” Leon followed him.

Gwaine also got to his feet, shaking his water canister. “And what are you going to be doing, Prince Arthur, while the rest of us do the work?”

Arthur crossed his arms. “Why, supervising Merlin, of course?”

“Thanks,” Merlin said grouchily. 

On his way past, Gwaine ruffled Merlin’s hair, and Merlin growled at him.

Percival and Elyan began wrestling with the tents.

While making sure that Merlin didn’t skimp on his duties, Arthur pulled out one of his knives and began sharpening it.

As he struck a flint and dropped the resulting flame into the kindling, Merlin shot him an annoyed look. “Do you  _ have  _ to do that? I feel like I’m about to be executed if I drop the pan.”

“Don’t drop the pan, then.” 

Arthur was perhaps enjoying annoying Merlin a little too much, but Lancelot wasn’t there to even it out.

Lancelot did, however, return twenty minutes later with Gwaine and the others as well as a fat rabbit for Merlin to skin. 

Elyan whistled. “What’s that one been feeding on?”

“Arthur’s stupidity,” Merlin muttered as he began skinning.

“Or Merlin’s aversion to chores,” Arthur retorted, lightly running the pad of his thumb over the edge to make sure it was sharp enough. It was. He placed it back into its leather sheath and then placed it to the side. When he looked back up, suspicious bits of green were floating around in the stew along with the chunks of rabbit.

Merlin was sneaky.

It was uncanny how he could lag behind a whole hunting trip and then skin a rabbit in fewer than five minutes.

“Is this meat or  _ vegetable  _ stew?” Leon complained.

“It depends on how you look at it,” Merlin told him, sniffing the air. He shuffled away from the fire a bit but still remained within enough distance to stir it.

Hours later, when the tents are packed up and they’re leaving the campsite, Gwaine throws a bucket of fire onto the campsite.

It hisses, throwing a billowing cloud of smoke up into the air.

Oddly, Arthur sees Merlin flinch and cover his nose.

…

Now that he had been made aware of it, Arthur could not  _ stop  _ seeing Merlin’s aversion to smoke. Merlin hated dealing with the ashes in Arthur’s fireplace, and every time Arthur “dragged” them out on a hunting trip, he always asked if anyone else wanted to deal with the fire. 

At first, he chalked it up to another quirky habit of Merlin’s - like tapping wood to check for worms and spring cleaning in the blasted middle of winter.

But as he watched Merlin converse with an old sailor, hunkered underneath the deepest cowl Merlin could scrounge up, he realized it was something different.

“I heard of the spirits,” the sailor said, then paused. He took a long whiff of his pipe, sucking in his cheeks like a reverse chipmunk. He released the drought in a long exhale. 

Poofing out, the smoke attacked Arthur and Merlin.

Annoyed, Arthur swatted his hand in front of his face to clear his vision and used the collar of the cloak to block the smoke from getting into his lungs.

Merlin had a much worse reaction. He coughed.

Repeatedly. Until the other members of the establishment were craning their heads to catch a look at what the commotion was about.

Merlin wheezed. 

“Merlin,” Arthur hissed. “Get a grip on yourself.”

“Can’t handle a bit of smoke, eh?” the sailor laughed, taking in more of his pipe. “Got weak lungs?”

Merlin stood. “Something like that,” he hacked out between coughs. “I’ll be right back.”

Before he left, Arthur caught a glimpse of his face. His eyes were glazed, and his skin was as white as a ghost.

“I’ll be right back, too,” Arthur said, lowering his voice into a gruff tone as he stood up. “If you stay, there will be a gold coin waiting for you.

The sailor’s eyes lit up. “Don’t mind if I do.” Taking another sip from his pipe, he watched Arthur follow after Merlin.

Merlin was sitting in the alleyway next to the tavern. When he saw Arthur approaching, he scrambled to his feet, a hand outstretched.

“Merlin,” Arthur hissed. “What in the blue blazes was that about?”

“Oh, it’s you.” Merlin lowered his hand. “Uh. Sorry about that. Just needed a little bit of clean air.”

Arthur scrutinized him through narrowed eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, fine.” Merlin gave him a crooked smile. “Are you worried about me?”

Arthur glowered. “I had to give that pothead a gold coin to stay. You’ll be paying me back for it.”

Merlin’s cheeky grin didn’t fade. “Right, Arthur.  _ Sure.” _

…

At Lancelot’s funeral, Merlin nearly passed out.

…

Arthur never found out what Merlin’s problem with smoke was.

As Camelot burned, however, and the stingy, acid scent danced through his nostrils, he began to understand why Merlin would hate it. 


	17. erase the line, let it crumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #17: Separation

**erase the line, let it crumble**

For as long as he could remember, Merlin had been separated from everyone. 

It didn’t matter when he was in Camelot. He could endure the separation, the aloofness that his magic gave him as long as he knew that he was using it for good. For someone. To fight evil and pave a new path for magic.

To establish Albion.

Then, Arthur died.

Merlin felt as though he had been caught off from the world once more.

There was a tiny voice inside his head that told him no one would ever really know.

Even though Queen Guineviere lifted the ban on magic three years into her reign, magic was still feared. Treated with reverence, as though Merlin was almost some sort of a god.

Magic was no longer illegal, but it also wasn’t accepted. Not really. Not fully. A strong, solid black line always separated Merlin from the rest of the world.

Gwen and her son tried to smooth things over. They treated Merlin the same as anyone else. More than anyone else. Little Arthur called Merlin “Uncle,” and Gwen treated him like a second brother.

(As though he could ever replace Elyan or any of the other knights that had fallen.)

Eventually, however, they died.

They all did. While they aged, Merlin remained identical to the young, naive Merlin who had first gotten lost trying to find the largest citadel in Camelot.

Merlin learned a new kind of separation.

Magic was forgotten. Arthur was forgotten. Except in children’s books, the tales of the knights of Camelot were buried in history as though they were myths.

Magic was feared, then serialized as though it were a toy to be placed in the hands of brattish young children.

Merlin laughed at them all.

He was an old codger; he kept to himself.

He could have stepped out into the world.

He could have flashed magic in the sky brighter than the northern lights and herald the return of magic.

He could have reminded them of the great men and women who had been lost, who would return again.

But it was not his place. There was a wall, blocking him from speaking out, from revealing the lost world of Camelot and magic. He was waiting; he was separate.

One day, though...one day, Arthur would return, and the line would be erased and the walls would crumble.


	18. Horrid Day for Dying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 18: Comdemned

**Horrid Day for Dying**

It was a horrid day for an execution. 

A thick, angry blanket of clouds covered the sun, and a few drops of rain splattered against the cobblestone, threatening a greater storm.

A few merlins hopped about the top of the building. People sent them strange looks. Although there were plenty of them in the country, they rarely ever ventured into the city.

It was cold and wet and miserable, and any sensible person would have called off an execution by flame.

Uther was not a sensible person.

The people knew that, the knights knew that - fie, even  _ Arthur,  _ his own son, knew that, but it didn’t matter. Uther was king, the king’s word was law, and if the king of Camelot wanted an execution, the pyre would be constructed and the prisoner brought out.

Even though Arthur was standing behind his father on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, he was given a clear view of the unfolding scene.

He gripped the ceremonial sword strapped to his waist until his knuckles ached.

The prisoner was brought out.

To Arthur, it could have been any other sorcerer. Numerous times before, he had stood in that exact same spot and watched others be burned, their flesh melting and sending off a foul scent while their screams filled the air.

It could have been anyone.

But it was Merlin.

Merlin, who complained loudly and never completed his chores on time.

Merlin, who forgot to tie his boots and broke heirloom vases.

Merlin, who threw himself needlessly into every battle, claiming that he needed to protect Arthur.

Merlin, who had nearly died trying to save Arthur’s life on countless occasions.

And now, he was going to die for Arthur again.

His father had always reminded him that one day the crown would be passed onto him and that he would need to be as strong as iron, impenetrable, if he were to ascend to the throne.

As Merlin was brought out, being pushed ahead by two guards, Arthur felt like he was going to throw up.

Uther was speaking, sentencing Merlin to death for crimes against Camelot (he used the exact, hate-filled speech every time, and it was ingrained in Arthur’s head at this point), but Arthur barely heard it over the pounding in his skull.

The soldiers tried to force Merlin over to the pyre, but Merlin wriggled and turned until he was squinting up at the balcony where Arthur stood. His eyes were fearful, solemn, and accepting.

He would burn for Arthur. When they had caught him, he had declared as much. He had never tried to fight.

If Arthur convicted him, Merlin would accept it.

Arthur could not condemn him.

(It had taken a wrecked room and a broken sword to determine this.)

As the rain beat gently down on their eyes, Merlin’s eyes bored into him. The crowd’s gazes were too fixed upon the prisoner to concentrate on the royal. In the air was the cackle of the merlins, the murmur of the crowd, and the continuous patter of the rain against the cobblestones.

Off in the distance, thunder rolled. 

Slightly, Arthur nodded and mouthed  _ run.  _

Surprised flicked across Merlin’s face. He blinked.

“Come on, you,” one of the guards growled. “You’re holding it up.”

Arthur could have laughed.

Merlin never did as he was told.

“No.” Merlin’s voice rang out clearly against the courtyard as clear as his oath that he had only served Arthur and Camelot. “No, I don’t think I will.”

The crowd gasped.

“What’s going on?” Uther hissed.

Merlin raised his hands. 

His wrists, where metal, magic-restricting cuffs should have been dangling, were bare.

“Impossible,” Uther breathed, snarling, as the guards shouted. “How-”

Barely smiling to himself, Arthur closed his eyes. 

When he opened them, thunder crackled again. Although filled with confused, angry soldiers and curious townspeople, it was completely devoid of any sorcerers.

Uther raged.

Arthur hid his smile. 


	19. walking across

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #19: Embrace

**walking across**

For Arthur, it was as though no time had passed. One minute, the light was fading and a woman was beckoning into water. In the next second, he was gasping, shooting upright and clutching at his chest. Water splashed around him.

He was alive. Underneath his fingertips and through the thin white cotton of his shirt, he felt his heartbeat and the heaving of his lungs. Water droplets clung to his hair, and he felt a cold one slither down his back.

He was very much alive.

He marveled at the fact.

“Arthur?  _ Arthur?”  _

He would recognize that voice anywhere. After all, it had dragged him out of bed early enough days on end. He splashed around in the water until he was able to gain a foothold. “Merlin?” he coughed. Bending over, he hacked out his lungs.

“Arthur!”

A small mass rammed into him, sending him back into the water.

…

Despite that first hug after Arthur’s return, Merlin skittered around Arthur. Even though he seemed to make it his number-one goal that Arthur be familiar with the strange, new world that he had woken up in, he obviously didn’t know what to do with himself. It was so  _ Merlin- _ like and yet so foreign-like at the same time.

Merlin had always shot back saucy answers to Arthur’s cuts. Now, he stuttered and tripped over his words like a girl.

When Arthur pointed out, Merlin denied it up and down and burned their dinner.

“Gwen will be here soon,” he rambled awkwardly. “She was so excited to hear that you were back - I mean, that’s a little bit of an understatement-”

At the mention of his wife, Arthur’s heart fluttered in his chest. Often, he liked to place a hand there. Just to make sure it was beating. In case it wasn’t in the next minute and he started drowning again. 

“Thank you, Merlin,” he said, standing up from the kitchen table to pace as Merlin hunted for the fire extinguisher in one of the kitchen cabinets. 

Merlin flinched and banged the back of his head on the counter overhang. 

The doorbell rang.

Arthur quickly got to his feet. The chair behind him fell over. He stooped to get it, but he dropped it.

“I’ll get it,” Merlin shooed him on, smiling. “Go say hello.”

Arthur rushed to the hall. Through the weird, warbled glass of the front door, he could see the outline of a person. The feature that gave away her identity was the hair.

He was suddenly nervous. Breathing heavily, he took a step forward.

What if she was different?

What if she didn’t love him anymore because she had found someone else?

More impatiently, the doorbell rang again, followed by a sharp rapping.  _ “Merlin? Merlin, are you in there? Is Arthur with you? Hello?”  _

Her voice was filled with hope. Crossing over, Arthur flung open the door.

“Oh!” Gwen took a step back.

“ _ Gwen.”  _

“ _ Oh!”  _ Gwen threw herself forward to embrace him.

Sniffing, he took in the scent of her hair. Despite all of the years that had passed, it was still the same, pleasant odor. 

He released her to give her a kiss.

After a minute, someone coughed. “I  _ hate  _ to break this up, but…”

Flushing, they parted.

“So.” Face red, Merlin clapped his hands. “Shall we catch up over a cup of tea?”

…

“Merlin, you can’t be serious,” Arthur objected, staring at his (former) manservant.

Puzzled, Merlin stared down at the sheets that he had spread over the kitchen table. “I thought I did all of the math correctly. I sometimes  _ do  _ mix up currencies, but they keep switching them, blast it.”

“No,” Gwen said gently, “what he means is that you don’t think we’re moving out, do you?” 

Merlin looked up. “But…I thought you and Arthur would want to get your own place now that you’ve found each other, and with Gwaine and Lancelot coming to live here-”

“This is a big house, isn’t it?” Arthur said, wrinkling his nose. It was only a small fraction of the castle he was used to, but Merlin had assured him that it was quite grand and  _ quite  _ ridiculously large for someone single of his supposed age to be living in alone.

“Well, yes,” Merlin admitted. “But-” For the first time in his life, he seemed to be unable to find the right words. Lost, he looked back down at his papers. “I thought...I thought the magic would make you uncomfortable.” He flicked a glance over to the kitchen cabinets, which he had made new again with a few words after the evening meal.

“Well, it  _ does  _ take a bit to get used to,” Gwen said, although Arthur was positive she was merely talking about him, “but we wouldn’t imagine leaving. You’re practically family, Merlin!”

“I am?” Merlin blinked.

Underneath the table, Gwen kicked Arthur.

He was going to agree anyway. “Yes,” he agreed. “You’re practically family.”

“Oh.” Rapidly, Merlin blinked. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Excuse me. I think something got in my eye.”

This was getting far too emotional for Arthur’s tastes. He picked up his dinner plate to take it to the sink, dropping it in with a clank as it hit a stray spoon. “Besides,” he continued, approaching the table again. “You don’t really expect us to ride a horse  _ all  _ of the way across town to see you now that you’re a lord?”

Merlin threw his hands in the air. “How many times do I have to tell you, you prat, there aren’t horses, and I’m  _ certainly  _ not a-”

Sitting down in the chair next to him, Arthur slung an arm around his shoulder.

Merlin froze.

“What?” Arthur asked gruffly. “Never felt a hug before?”

Stirring the cream further into her coffee, Gwen beamed at them.

“You’re right,” Merlin said. “It is too far to ride a horse.”


	20. the web he weaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #20: Deception

**the web he weaves**

“Merlin couldn’t lie to save his own life!”

Merlin wanted to laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh.

Until he couldn’t breathe. Until there were tears running down his face and his sides ached and his cheeks burned.

Arthur didn’t know. Arthur couldn’t see.

Arthur called him the idiot. The stupid one.

Ha. How  _ foolish  _ the prince of Camelot was. 

Merlin imagined sewing his mouth shut so none of his thoughts would slip out but couldn’t stop the edges of his lips from curling into a smile.

Oh, if only Arthur knew. Out of all of them, Merlin was the best liar. He wove tales to hide his actions and created disguises like they were second nature. Every single day, he wove a web of deception and lay in the middle. 

He knew lies like the back of his hand and could read the falsehoods others wore.

He was a master of deception, a ruler of it as much as a being of magic.

To be Merlin was to  _ be  _ deception, and to know Merlin was to be deceived.

“What are you laughing at?” Arthur asked, scowling. “You ruddy well know as I do that it’s true.”

“Yeah,” Merlin agreed, smiling. “Yeah, it is.”


	21. your fault, isn't it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #21: Hauntings

**your fault, isn’t it?**

Arthur woke with a start, sweat pouring from his body.

His hair was on end. 

“Arthur?” Gwen asked sleepily, turning over. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he answered. “I’m only thirsty. Go back to sleep.” To assuage her fears, he gave her a peck on the cheek. 

Smiling sleepily, she rolled back over until her shirt blended in with the pillows and the quilt.

Trying to disturb her as little as possible, Arthur removed himself from the covers and jammed his feet into his slippers. He padded across the room and let himself out.

Dismissing the guards who jumped to attention with a flick of his fingers, he padded to an empty hallway. Once there, he rested with his back against the wall. 

“Are you there?” he croaked. “Merlin?” Then, he waited. 

A wave of coldness far greater than any snow or draft of wind washed over him. 

“ _ Arthur,”  _ the ghost snapped as it appeared. “ _ How dare you fall asleep.”  _

Arthur bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

_ “How dare you go on about life as though you’ve forgotten me,”  _ the ghost continued to rant.  _ “Couldn’t you save me?”  _

The ghost knew it. He could have. He could have stopped the fire. But he didn’t. And now the figure before him bore the most disgusting, grotesque,  _ burned  _ face he had ever seen, reminding him of his failure to save his friend.

Sometimes, Arthur wondered if this was the real Merlin or only a memory of what Merlin should have said, should have confronted Arthur on when he was still alive.

Either one cut to the bone of his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped out. “I’m sorry, Merlin. Is there anything I can do, anything to help you pass on?” At that point, he just wanted to see Merlin rest.

Although he’d thought he would give anything to see his friend again at one point, he now realized that he would  _ do  _ anything to  _ never  _ see his friend.

And it was all his fault.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, bowing his head. “If I could do something…”

The ghostly, flickering form of Merlin sneered. “ _ Do you really think you could do anything now? I’m dead.”  _

“I’m sorry.”

“ _ I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead,”  _ Merlin sang sadly as he drifted over to the opposite wall, almost as though he had forgotten his anger at Arthur.

Arthur slid down to the floor, resting his head in his hands and bracing his elbows against his knees.

He didn’t know why he came here every night when it made him feel as useless as Gwaine under the influence of a stronger drink.

A cold form floated up next to him.

Arthur didn’t look up.

_ “Remember me, Arthur. Remember what you didn’t save.”  _

For a second, Merlin’s voice was the closest it had even been to alive-Merlin’s, the tone he had adopted whenever he was trying to save something but couldn’t get it out of him because of his  _ emotions.  _

Once, Arthur had laughed at him for that.

Now, he completely understood.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur repeated again because it was the only thing he could do. “I won’t. I  _ won’t.”  _

Ghost Merlin hummed in the back of his throat.

Arthur stayed in the same position until the humming stopped and the coldness dissipated. Then, he slowly picked himself up as if he were an old grandfather instead of a young man in his prime and plodded back to his rooms.

As he settled back into it, the bed creaked underneath his weight.

“Are you all right?” Gwen asked quietly, her warm hand touching his cold arm underneath the covers.

Arthur paused for a moment, pulling the covers around himself more. Finally, he answered, “I’m fine.”

_ How dare you.  _


	22. nothing to fear me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #22: Shadows

**nothing to fear me**

The shadows twisted in and out of his fingers, welcoming him as a friend. Merlin was hidden in them like a grassblade in a field; no one could see him.

More than magic ran through his blood. He was lord of the shadows, and at that moment, he was putting them to good use.

As he snuck around the corner of the castle, they softened his footsteps, muted his breath and words, and dulled the minds of others who thought they could tread in his domain without his notice.

Ha. They were fools.

The shadows laughed at him.

“Shut up,” he whispered. “I’m beginning to think Arthur’s a bad influence on you lot.”

They seemed to say,  _ U _ s _? Never!,  _ but Merlin could never quite be sure. Even if he controlled them, they were a realm all unto themselves often.

Merlin waited until a guard passed his point before moving on. It was better to be safe than sorry. Sometimes, like his wild magic, the shadows could be unpredictable, and Merlin didn’t like to use them more than necessary.

It kept him in the light better that way.

_ Need to go up,  _ they directed him, pushing him along. 

Whenever the knights had encountered the shadows, they had been terrified and later described the raw, dark force with reverent tones. 

They were afraid of them. It seemed ridiculous to Merlin. The shadows had always been there, ready to hide him, ready to envelop him in their arms to keep him away from people who would burn him if they found out who he truly was. 

At the top of the stairs, Merlin paused, using the shadows to reach out and find out  _ exactly  _ where the intruder was. If he hurried, he would be able to get ahead of the man before anything  _ bad  _ occurred.

That would be most unfortunate.

He was waiting at the end of the hallway whenever the intruder rounded the corner.

Immediately, Merlin let the shadows melt away.

“Ah!” the man scrambled backwards, tripping over his own feet. As he picked himself up, he swore. 

“Sorry about that,” Merlin said. “Arthur tells me I’m dramatic, but I can’t really help it sometimes.”

The man simply glared at him, brandishing his crossbow. “Get out of my way, or I’ll shoot.”

“Are you here to murder Arthur?” Merlin asked, curiously. He liked to get confirmation before anything regrettable transpired.

“No, I’m here to kill the king,” he drawled.

“Oh, well, in that case.” Merlin made a motion to the side with his hand. “Carry on. Don’t let  _ me  _ stop you from getting things done.”

The assassin threw a hand up in the air. 

For a moment, Merlin worried if he was laying it on a bit too thick but then dismissed the notion.

“Step aside,” the assassin ordered calmly. “I would hate to kill an innocent castle servant.”

“That,” Merlin began, steepling his fingers, “is where you are slightly wrong. I am not a castle servant.”

“I would hate to kill an innocent person, then,” the assassin snapped. “What difference does it make? Get out of the way.”

“Wrong  _ again.  _ You see, I’m far from innocent. Also, it’s my job to protect Prince Arthur. So I can’t ‘step aside,’ although you make it sound  _ very  _ appealing. I mean, why should I not let you kill him? He makes me darn his  _ stinky, smelly  _ socks, and he’s franky unappreciative, incompetent-”

Merlin could have continued the list of Arthur’s thoughts, but the assassin pointed his crossbow at Merlin’s chest, cutting the words off.

Merlin raised his hands. “Sorry.”

The assassin sneered. “Don’t apologize. You’re the one that’s going to end up with the short straw here.”

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Merlin said, coldly, turning his body to face square with the man and raising a hand.

Through the eye slit in his mask, the assassin looked confused. “What-” His crossbow wavered.

Merlin curled his fingers inwards, towards his psalm. The shadows lurking on the edges of the room and the ceiling delved towards the center of the hallway where the assassin was standing.

“No.” His eyes widened. “No!”

The shadows continued sucking inwards.

Merlin used his magic to mute the scream.

When the cycle was complete, there was nothing more than a black puddle on the hallway floor. 

If Arthur saw it when he stepped out of his room the next morning, he would have Merlin scrubbing the entire floor of the castle, so Merlin whispered a few more words, his eyes flashing gold.

The black mess sunk into the floor and disappeared.

Another situation taken care of. 

One day, Arthur might even realize what Merlin did for him and give him a raise. 

Shadows pulling at the edges of his cloak, Merlin melted back into the surroundings.


	23. Again? Really?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #23: Prison

**Again? Really?**

The guard yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his iron gauntlet. Guard duty in the dungeons was one of the tasks he hated the most because of its monotony, and it appeared that this evening would be no different. The only prisoner was the physician’s boy and the prince’s manservant, and he had been down there at least four times previously.

On top of that, the room stank because of the water dripping from the ceilings and the hay King Uther seemed to think provided some “comfort” scattered on the floor. During this time of the year, it was beginning to mold, and it would be  _ his  _ duty to clean it out.

“Hey.”

The guard blinked.

“Hey,” the prisoner repeated again. “Hello.”

“It’s not proper to converse with prisoners,” the guard informed him stiffly, straightening up. 

“I just want to ask a question,” Merlin insisted, resting his elbows on the bars of the cell. 

“You can ask,” the guard answered airily. Although it wouldn’t matter whether he answered or not, it was nice to carry an air of aloofness. 

“How long are they going to keep me down here this time?” Merlin asked. “I have to muck out the stables.”

The guard couldn’t help but snort. “Until your execution.”

Merlin huffed. “We all know that’s not going to happen.”

The guard knew that well enough. The previous four times, Merlin had either been cleared and released or escaped before he could be executed. He had never figured out how the klutzy peasant managed to do so, but the tradition continued.

“So, I was wondering,” Merlin began, “if you could just let me go and save us both the trouble this time.”

The guard snorted. “What kind of an idiot do you think I am?” King Uther would have his head if he ever let a prisoner escape on accident, let alone  _ on purpose.  _

“I was just wondering,” Merlin said defensively, disappearing into the back of his cell.

Considering the conversation done, the guard covered another yawn. He estimated that another hour would pass before his replacement came to relieve him, but it was hard to tell how much time passed down in the dungeons.

“Tired?” Merlin asked him.

The guard looked to the left. “Yeah. Had a late night yesterday.”

Sympathetically, Merlin nodded. “That’s rough.”

The guard closed his eyes. 

They popped open.

He jerked his head around to look at Merlin again.

Merlin, who had been locked securely in the cell but was now leaning against the wall next to him.

He should have known.

“Why does this  _ always  _ happen to me?” the guard groaned, burying his head in his hands.

“Sorry,” Merlin apologized. 

The guard threw his arms wide and squeezed his eyes shut. “Well, just get on with it, then,” he growled. “I don’t have all day to get over a headache.”

“You’ll get to catch up on some of that sleep,” Merlin pointed out enthusiastically.

The guard was less than thrilled, but he supposed he would rather have a headache than no head at all if Uther found him  _ conscious  _ with an escaped prisoner.

Merlin made it quick.

Disoriented, the guard woke up three hours later in the darkness of the dungeons. All of the torches had burned out, and there was a thin layer of blood coating the back of his head. 

Later, he heard the news that Merlin had  _ somehow  _ escaped from prison to save Prince Arthur’s life from a deadly assassin and now was on the brink of death.

With the other castle servants, he lit a candle and prayed.


	24. Bruises, Braces, and Bandages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #24: Damaged

**Bruises, Braces, and Bandages**

In the white, sharp-smelling hallway of the hospital, Arthur ran into Gaius. “How is he?” he whispered, casting a fearful glance at the closed door that led to the hospital room.

Gaius glanced back at it and bowed his head. “Not well.”

Arthur swallowed. “Oh.” Both of them stood, looking anywhere but at each other for half a minute. “Listen,” Arthur broke the silence. “Gwen is in the car outside. She couldn’t bear to come in. If you wouldn’t mind…”

Gaius quirked the eyebrow at him and shuffled down the hallway, leaving Arthur to himself. 

Arthur braced himself before pushing open the hospital door.

The smell of rubbing alcohol and medicine was stronger in the room, and a heavy beeping filled the air. Arthur took in all of the strange-looking, complicated machines before letting his eyes drop the figure in the bed.

Bruises, braces, and bandages. 

That was Merlin.

He looked dead. 

Many times before, Arthur had seen Merlin looking close to the fact, but never before had any of the situations seemed this real.

By text, Gaius had told him that the doctors estimated Merlin’s chances of waking up were twenty percent. Arthur didn’t know how they came up with the number. It didn’t seem real. It was too small. It was too hopeless. 

But if anyone could beat twenty percent, it was Merlin. His friend seemed to have the number of lives as a cat. The thought of him dying was ludicrous.

And it was staring it in the face.

Arthur took a seat next to the bed, bracing his elbows against the arms of the chair. He felt uncomfortable. He wanted to be there for Gaius and Merlin, but he didn’t know what to do with himself. What was he  _ supposed  _ to do? Shake Merlin and demand that he get up and clean up the kitchen because he wasn’t going to clean dried melted cheese off the counter for the fifth time?  _ Order  _ him to wake up so they could finish watching their latest TV show with Gwen?

Here, he held no power.

He’d never seen Merlin look so damaged before.

The door cracked open, and shoes squeaked across the floor. “Oh!” a nurse exclaimed, causing Arthur to look up. “I didn’t realize that someone was here. I’ll come back later.”

“No.” Arthur hauled himself to his feet. “I was just leaving.” He slipped past her and out of the room.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked out of the hospital. Gwen was waiting for him, her eyes red and her hair tousled in a way that would have normally made Arthur feel warm inside.

He felt cold.


	25. On the Edge Between the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #25: The unknown

**On the Edge Between the Sky**

Merlin stood at the edge of the precipice, staring into the rivers and valleys below him. They were far, far away from Camelot, but for some reason, Merlin felt at home. He felt at peace. As though everything would be all right.

“Merlin?” 

Behind him, thicket crunched, and Arthur swore. “Blasted thorns! How in the blue blazes did you manage to get up here?”

“Was it too hard for you?” Merlin asked without turning around.

Arthur growled at him.

As Arthur drew side by side with Merlin, Merlin closed his eyes. Up this high, the wind roared and tickled at his cheeks. It was cold, but a pleasant sensation. It reminded him of flying.

“What are you doing up here?” Arthur asked grouchily, crossing his arms and staring at the same expanse.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”

“Don’t tire yourself out.”

“Ha.” Merlin bit the inside of his cheek. 

Sometimes, he wondered if Arthur would keep joking with him if he knew everything.

“What’s wrong with you?” Arthur asked him out of the blood.

“What?” Merlin shot him a sideways look. “Have you been sharing the waterskin with Gwaine again?”

“No.” Arthur scowled. “You’ve been acting weird the whole trip. Well,  _ weirder  _ than usual.” 

“I’m fine,” Merlin assured him. “I just wanted to look at the view.”

Although Merlin expected Arthur to snort and make some comment about him being such a girl, Arthur said nothing.

Merlin half-turned to him. “I’ll be back in a bit to start the fire and cook for you bottomless pits.”

“Dismissing the king of Camelot?”

“Yes. Shoo.” 

Huffing, Arthur turned. “If you don’t come back within half an hour, I’m sending a search party!”

Although Arthur couldn’t hear him, Merlin hummed underneath his breath.

The view was gorgeous. The leaves of the trees were beginning to turn red and cold, and the river was a solid, beautiful blue. It was rare to have a chance to simply stand and stare at something so enthralling. 

It would be even more beautiful from higher, he realized. The sky was fresh, and the puffy clouds gently rolled across the terrain.

He looked back over his shoulder, but Arthur had disappeared.

It wasn’t as though he could have shared it with him, anyway.

Merlin closed his eyes and took a step forward, off the edge. As he began to fall, he let out a cry to summon Kilgharrah.

…

As they soared above the land, Merlin picked out their camp. 

The two of them must have looked like a bird to the knights.

For some strange reason, flying felt quite cold and lonely at that moment. The land lost its appeal.


	26. We Honor You

**We Honor You**

“Today, we honor the fallen.”

It took several seconds for the words to be absorbed by the somber crowd. The speaker waited.

“Today, we honor those who put the good of Camelot before their very lives, who fought bravely for their sake.”

The speaker’s voice was strong but quiet. Even so, it filled the entire courtyard, which was otherwise silent except for the occasional snap from a waiting torch.

“Today, we honor our friends.”

On the last word, his voice broke. 

Silently, the pyres were lit.


	27. At the End of It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #27: Deal with the Devil

**At the End of It All**

When Arthur got back in the car with the bag of donuts in hand, Merlin wrinkled his nose. “Are you really going to eat those?”

“It’s four o’clock in the morning,” Arthur pointed out. “What else do you expect me to eat?”

As he backed out of the parking lot, Merlin shook his head. “I’m just saying, you’re kind of falling into the overweight cop stereotype.”

Before he could catch himself, Arthur looked down at his waistline. He scowled at Merlin. “I’m not fat, Emrys. Not everyone can eat anything and still look like a twig at the end of the day like you.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Har har. You’re just jealous.”

Arthur snorted. “Of your physique? I’m surprised they let you on the force.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Merlin muttered, checking both ways before pulling out into traffic. 

Although it was early in the morning, a few cars were speeding down the road, and Arthur didn’t put it past Merlin to hit each and every one of them. Really, he should have been driving, but Merlin insisted that he would throw up if someone else was behind the wheel.

Arthur opened the bag, making Merlin gag. “It’s just powdered sugar, Emrys.”

“Right.” As Arthur proceeded to pull one of the donuts out and take a bite, Merlin continued to cough. “I can  _ smell  _ that.”

Arthur’s mouth was too full for him to be able to respond.

The patrol car’s radio went off.

Before Arthur could dust his fingers off and grab it, Merlin snatched it up. “One Adam twelve,” he said. 

_ “Reported shooting at the cross section of Belmont and Perdue. Officers are advised to proceed with caution.”  _

“Going to have to put down that donut,” Merlin advised as he slammed on the gas pedal.

“Watch out where you’re going, blast it!” Arthur snapped as the bag of donuts went flying out of his lap. Hastily, he wiped his fingers off on the front of his uniform (a bad habit his wife Gwen was constantly complaining about whenever she went to do the laundry).

“I  _ am,”  _ Merlin insisted, his jaw tense.

“Belmont and Perdue is a residential area,” Arthur reported.

Merlin nodded.

“Estimated time of arrival is three minutes. Take a left up ahead.”

“I know where Belmont and Perdue are,” Merlin said, taking another turn that sent Arthur into the door.

Arthur didn’t answer.

When they arrived, Merlin was the first out of the car, Arthur behind him. Copying Merlin he withdrew his gun.

The neighborhood was quiet except for the rushing of early-morning commuters on other streets and a few dogs barking. Other than a busted street light flickering on and off, the street was dim. 

Up ahead, Arthur could catch the reflection of their car’s dimming headlights against a street sign designating the intersection.

Merlin jerked his head back towards a fence, and Arthur followed him.

“I can’t hear anything,” Arthur hissed. “Are you sure the dispatcher didn’t make a mistake?”

As far as he could tell, the street was deserted with no silence of any past violence.

Merlin’s forehead was wrinkled. “I think-”

Arthur started his normal retort (“Well, that’s a first!”), but the words never made it past his lips. A  _ crack  _ echoed throughout the neighborhood.

Arthur started forward in the direction of the sound, but Merlin pulled him back. “I’ll go. You radio in for backup.”

Arthur shook Melin’s hand off. “Seriously? Now’s not the time to play hero.” 

“No, I’ve got this, Pendragon” Merlin insisted. “I’m smaller than you. There’s less of me to see.”

Before Arthur could protest further, Merlin darted forward.

Mentally, Arthur cursed Merlin. He dashed back to their car and made a short radio message to the dispatcher on duty before racing after Merlin.

You were supposed to stay with your partner.

As he rounded the corner of a fence, a bright flash erupted in the street.

Blinded, Arthur threw his arms in front of his eyes. “Merlin!” he yelled.

A second later, the street was enveloped in black again. Dazed, Arthur stumbled forward, blinking rapidly to restore his vision. It returned to him in spots.

In the middle of the street stood Merlin, his gun raised at another figure, who was returning the welcome.

Startled, the other figure jerked his weapon up and Arthur and fired.

“No!” Merlin yelled. He followed the exclamation with a strange string of words. 

A bright flash erupted again, and this time, Arthur was thrown back. 

…

When he regained consciousness, a worried Merlin was hovering over him.

He groaned. “Ruddy-”

“Oh, good, nothing’s  _ permanently  _ injured then. That’s better than usual.”

“What?” Nothing Merlin had just said was making sense to him, and his recollection of what had happened to him was coming back in bits and pieces. Too much light. There had been too much light.

Dumbly, Arthur pointed a finger at Merlin. “Magic. You used magic.”

“What?” Merlin helped him sit up on the curb. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I know what I saw.” Odd things were always happening around Merlin, and Arthur wasn’t going to chalk  _ this  _ one up to a natural phenomenon. “I saw light-”

“You hit your head.” Merlin’s voice turned hard. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. My body cam will show what happened.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Merlin. He was gaining greater control over his body parts and didn’t need his help anymore. “ _ I know what I saw,”  _ he reiterated with force. “You saved my life.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, Pendragon.” Satisfied that Arthur was uninjured, Merlin stood. “I’m going to see what’s taking another car from getting here. Keep people away.”

Although Arthur would have much preferred to wear Merlin down until he answered all of his questions, he did have to perform his job and make sure the curious neighbors didn’t mess with...well, whatever Merlin had left for them.

This time, it was a corpse instead of an unconscious perp. 

…

Their car hummed as it purred down the road.

Tense, Merlin drummed his fingers against the wheel.

Instead of insisting on a place behind the wheel, Arthur had let him drive with the hopes that the position would put Merlin in a better mood.

It had not.

“Will you at least tell me how you fooled your body cam?” he asked.

Merlin shot him a sideways glance. “I told you to leave it alone, Pendragon.”

“I’m not crazy.” 

“If you keep talking like that, someone might be convinced you are,” Merlin shot back. “Look, the donut shop is up ahead. How about I pull in, and you can-”

“Blast it, Merlin.” Arthur slammed his hand down on the dash. “I don’t want a glucose-infected slab of powdered sugar. I want answers. You can fool the chief, but you can’t pull the bag over my head.”

Merlin snorted. “I  _ highly  _ doubt that.” He pulled down a street.

Arthur frowned. This wasn’t their normal route. “Hey-”

Merlin slammed on the breaks and turned to Arthur. “I am only going to say this once, Arthur. Quit looking for answers. If you keep poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, you’re going to get hurt.”

“Are you  _ threatening me?”  _ Arthur asked hotly.

“No! I’m trying to warn you! I can’t always be around to protect you!” Merlin threw his hands in the air and almost took out some of their equipment.

“All right,” Arthur backed up. 

“But will you at least tell me how on this green earth did  _ it happen?”  _

Merlin looked away. His jaw was clenched in a manner that only happened when Arthur prodded a bit too close to his personal life.

“No,” he answered sharply. “I won’t. If I told you...well…” Merlin laughed, but it was a hollow, dry laugh. “You wouldn’t want to know. You wouldn’t want to see. It would be too much for you. You become me when you make a deal with the devil. Just leave it, Arthur. I’ll keep on saving your sorry backside and helping people, and everyone is happy at the end of it all, okay?”

“Even you?”

Merlin didn’t answer. He started up the patrol car again. 


	28. if only I could find what's missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #28: Whisper

**if i could find what’s missing**

“ _ Merlin.” _

He heard the whisper. He knew it was there. He knew someone was waiting for him. He knew that someone was aware of his presence.

It frightened him.

He was a nobody. His own father even abandoned his mother before he was born. No one cared if he lived or breathed or died and was buried the next day.

No one cared if Merlin Emrys was alive.

But this voice? It called to him. It  _ knew  _ him somehow.

He wasn’t sure how.

“ _ Merlin.”  _

It felt as though it was from somewhere else although Merlin had never left the small neighborhood that he had grown up with. Sometimes, he was hit with an overwhelming feeling that he was out of place, that he didn’t belong, that he needed to fix something, 

But he had been born with a sense that he was foreign to the world.

His mother told him he was puberty.

He doubted it. She didn’t know about the voice that kept summoning him. Although Merlin had thought of telling her several times, the nagging fear that he would be locked up in a sterile white mental hospital somewhere had always prevailed, so he kept his mouth shut.

Something was missing.

Once, Merlin had run across the word  _ hiraeth  _ in a dictionary. He loved that word. It described everything that he felt. He liked to run its syllables through his mind as though the repetition would find out what was vacant in his life.

_ “Merlin.”  _

Occasionally, Merlin felt a pull on his fingers, thought of other strange words that didn’t exist in the dictionary. Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror, his eyes flashed gold. 

He convinced himself that it was just the flickering of the bulb that Hunith had always said she was going to replace but could never afford to.

_ “Merlin.”  _

He was missing something, but a lot of things were missing from Merlin’s life. He didn’t want to worry his mum or cause her any more trouble than he usually did. It didn’t seem fair to bring any of it up when she worked hard to make sure the two of them had enough food on the dinner table. Whenever he considered following after the voice, he reminded himself of what his mother had given up for him. He couldn’t just  _ leave  _ her and go wherever it wanted.

But he still wondered what it would be like if it did. What it would be like to feel the strange hole etched into his heart. What it would be like to find the missing puzzle piece, the last shard needed to glue a broken vase back together again. What it would be like to discover the person who might have also been missing him.

_ “Merlin.”  _


	29. i'll be waiting (but only when you're ready)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #29: Truth

**i’ll be waiting (but only when you’re ready)**

“A branch hit you on the head. You were knocked unconscious,” he explained to Arthur. “It might have done some damage to your head. More than usual.”

Barely taking in his words, Arthur rubbed the back of his head and then inspected his fingers. “A tree branch?”

Biting the bottom of his lip, Merlin nodded.

“Are you  _ sure  _ that’s what hit me?” Arthur asked. “Is that the truth?”

Merlin paused. It was an oddly specific question. “Of course it is,” he settled on. “I thought you said I was a horrible liar.”

“You are,” Arthur said slowly. “I was just wondering.”

“Are you feeling all right?” Merlin asked him.

Arthur batted away his hands. “Of course I am, you idiot. After all, I was  _ just _ knocked on the back of the head by a  _ tree branch  _ while the rest of  _ you  _ took care of whatever  _ magical beast of the week.”  _

Merlin’s heart rate picked up. Arthur was acting like he  _ knew  _ something, but that should have been impossible because Merlin checked  _ everything  _ and-

Arthur brushed past him. “Where’s the rest of the knights?” he asked irritably. “Knocked out by  _ other  _ tree branches?”

“Why would I lie about a tree branch? They’re finding the horses.” Uncomfortable, Merlin crossed his arms. If Arthur possibly  _ knew,  _ why wasn’t he coming out and  _ saying  _ anything? 

Arthur stomped around a bit more before coming full circle. 

Warily, Merlin watched him, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

Arthur pointed a finger at him, causing him to flinch. “Just know,  _ Mer _ lin, that you can always tell me the truth.”

Well, that was  _ not  _ what Merlin had been expecting. “Yes? Do you have a point?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You are  _ such  _ an idiot. Never mind!” He turned around and stormed off into the forest. 

Perplexed, Merlin stared after him.

He didn’t know what the problem was. After all, he  _ was  _ telling the truth. A tree branch really  _ had  _ knocked him out.

So what if it had been prompted by a little bit of magic?


End file.
